


I Need You

by labeautelivresque



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Main Video Game Series), Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types, Pocket Monsters: X & Y | Pokemon X & Y Versions
Genre: 5 Times, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-11
Updated: 2017-05-11
Packaged: 2018-10-30 19:27:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10883394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/labeautelivresque/pseuds/labeautelivresque
Summary: He almost said that. He almost told Augustine how terrified he was of growing old, of watching the world fall even further into disrepair, and worst of all, of watching him age and decay and wither away– of seeing Augustine Sycamore become ugly.If he could only preserve that beauty forever– no, he had to push these thoughts from his mind. He had to.





	I Need You

**Author's Note:**

> This was written in response to a prompt on Tumblr: "5 times Sycamore and Lysandre depended on one another."

**1.**  


“You’re back.”

Had he been anyone but Lysandre de Fleur, that would have been an entirely underwhelming response to seeing his friend for the first time in over a month, but the smile tugging at the corners of his mouth told Augustine Sycamore that he was glad to see him.

“I am.” He tried to return the smile, but it was clearly forced. “How have you been?”

Well, _that_ wasn’t what Lysandre had been expecting. Augustine had spent over a month at the Tower of Mastery studying Mega Evolution, and all he had to say upon his return was ’ _how have you been_?’ He frowned. “How have **you** been?” he asked pointedly. “Tell me, how did it go? What did you learn?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Augustine answered quietly. 

“It certainly _does_ matter!” persisted Lysandre. “Augustine, all you ever talk about is your research. You **know** that I’m interested. Tell me what–”

“Nothing happened!” snapped the other, and Lysandre fell silent immediately. He had never, to his recollection, seen Augustine so upset. “I couldn’t do it. I tried, but I couldn’t– I don’t have what it takes…” There was a pause, and then he laughed. The sound was humorless, bitter, completely uncharacteristic of Augustine Sycamore. “Ironic, isn’t it? I’m devoting my life to researching Mega Evolution, and I can’t even achieve it.”

Lysandre couldn’t find his voice. What could he say to ease his friend’s mind? Was there anything? 

“…could I get you anything? Tea or… coffee?”

For a moment, he thought that Augustine wasn’t going to answer. He wouldn’t have blamed him. Then, with a barely perceptible shake of the head, Sycamore opened his arms in a silent request for comfort.

And who was Lysandre de Fleur to deny him that?

**2.**

“So… you want me to tell you… _what_?”

“Just tell me how the hologram looks, if the sound is clear enough… Those sorts of things.” Augustine blinked. _This_ didn’t seem like the sort of thing to trust him with. Testing the Holo-Caster? Weren’t there people whose **job**  it was to do things like this? 

“…alright.”

–

“Well, what did you think, Professor?”

Augustine’s face flushed as he handed the device back to Lysandre. He wanted to sing its praises, but he knew that Lysandre valued honesty. “It– it sounded fine, but the picture was… a little grainy. It’s not as though that actually matters, though–”

“I’ll fix it,” said Lysandre at once. “Thank you.”

“It was fine, Lys, really. I’m probably not the best person to pass judgement on this, after all.”

_You’re the only person whose opinion I value_ , Lysandre thought to himself. “I’ll fix it, Augustine. I’ve noticed myself that the hologram needed a bit of work. Thank for you assuring me of that.”

The professor visibly relaxed. “Anytime, _mon ami_. Whenever you need me.”

_I always need you._

**3.**

“Do you ever feel, Professor, like nothing you do makes any difference?”

Sycamore abruptly looked up from the paper he was reading and peered over at his friend, brow creased in worry. “What? What are you talking about, Lys? You make quite a bit of difference.”

“I _try_ to make a difference,” Lysandre corrected him, fingers clenching so tightly around the arms of the chair that his knuckles were turning white. “With the Holo-Caster, with my café… and the world is just as corrupt as it was when I began, if not more so. The more I give, the more the rest of the world takes.”

Augustine got to his feet, tentatively approaching his friend with a small, sad smile. He knew better than to do or say the wrong thing while Lysandre was in one of these moods. Making him angrier wouldn’t do a inkling of good. “You can’t solve all of the world’s problems by yourself,” he said gently, reaching out to pry Lysandre’s fingers away from the chair. “No matter how much you want to. That’s a big responsibility you’ve placed on yourself, Lys…”

“Augustine…” Grey eyes met blue. Neither of them realized it was happening until their lips met, and Lysandre’s fingers were tangled in Augustine’s hair, tugging him closer, closer… _Don’t let go. I need you to help me. You’re the only thing in this world that’s still beautiful._

He almost said that. He almost told Augustine how terrified he was of growing old, of watching the world fall even further into disrepair, and worst of all, of watching _him_ age and decay and wither away– of seeing Augustine Sycamore become ugly.

If he could only preserve that beauty **forever** – no, he had to push these thoughts from his mind. He had to. He had to…

**4.**

Augustine was already asleep, Lysandre noted as he lay awake, gazing up at the ceiling. Tonight, as was growing more and more common, he was finding it difficult to sleep.

_Lysandre…! I need you._

Augustine had said that amidst breathy little moans, had wound his arms around Lysandre’s neck, had left soft kisses against his neck, his shoulders, his cheeks. _I need you._ Lysandre knew that it wasn’t an altogether uncommon thing to say during sex but still– the very **idea** terrified him. And it wasn’t the first time Augustine had said such things. He was _always_ saying it.

_**You don’t need me.** _

He didn’t _want_ Augustine to need him. That made everything harder. It made everything more painful.

Would Augustine be saying that if he knew the truth of what Lysandre was planning? _No_. He would run away. He would hate him.

Lysandre didn’t realize he was crying until he felt Augustine’s arms around him, his face pressed against his chest. He hadn’t been sleeping, after all. “Do you want to tell me what’s wrong?” he asked softly.

Lysandre shook his head, but the tears didn’t stop.

**5.**

“Lysandre!”

He knew that voice, didn’t he? It sounded so far away that for a moment, Lysandre thought he was imagining it. “Lys, _mon dieu_ … Lys, can you hear me?” He tried to nod, to shout back in reply, but even something as simple as _breathing_ sent a rush of pain cutting through him. “Lysandre, please… Don’t be– be…” The voice trailed off, and he heard nothing for quite some time.

The next time he heard the voice, it was accompanied by a weight **literally** being lifted from his chest. Had the owner of the voice dug him out of the rubble by hand? No– he could hear other voices now. He tried to listen for _that_ voice. It was familiar, comforting. _Beautiful_. “Lys… Can you hear me? It’s Augustine… I’ve brought help, it’ll be alright, I promise…”

Augustine. He remembered now. And the guilt was nearly as painful as his injuries. How could Augustine Sycamore even bear to look at him?

“Augustine…” He forced himself to open his eyes, and was stunned to see tears in the professor’s eyes. He tried to sit up. Bad move. He fell back with a groan, and Augustine dropped to his knees beside him. “Stay still! Once they make sure it’s safe to bring the medics down here, we’re going to get you fixed up in no time.” He smiled, and to anyone who didn’t know him well, it might have looked genuine.

“Augustine– I’m sorry…”

“We can talk about it later,” the professor replied briskly. “You need to relax. Stop talking.”

“Why aren’t you angry?” he demanded. He didn’t deserve this. He didn’t deserve Augustine’s kindness, not after what he had tried to do– what he had almost done… If he had succeeded, Augustine wouldn’t be here. _Nobody_ would be here.

“I never said that I wasn’t angry,” Augustine replied calmly. “We can talk about it later, Lys. Please, relax.”

Lysandre did what any sane person does when they’re told to relax. He worried even more. A sob was rising in his throat, and he struggled in vain not to cry. Crying wouldn’t solve anything, would only hurt more, but– “ ** _Augustine_** …”

Just his name, accompanied by a sob that was followed by more sobs, each one harsher than the last.

_I need you._

“Shh, _mon cheri_ , I’ve got you…” Gentle arms wrapped around him, and Lysandre wondered how he could have possibly survived in his perfect world without the most perfect thing in this one.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! If you haven't done so already, a like/reblog on Tumblr would be much appreciated! The post can be found [here](http://profxsseur-archive-blog.tumblr.com/post/111842776685/i-need-you-drabble).
> 
> And, of course, a comment/kudos is always appreciated! Much love to everyone!


End file.
